Darcy felt the blood drain from his face. They still did not know who had attacked Elizabeth—surely it was too soon to speak of her leaving him?
“I had thought of that, Bennet, while we waited for you to arrive,” Sir William said. “For more than one reason, it would be risky to bring her home without word of a betrothal. Given that this situation remains unresolved, it would be better still to have her a married woman.” He tugged at his ear. “You can tell Mrs. Bennet you sent her to the Gardiners to meet a possible suitor but did not wish to say as much in case it all came to naught. I considered my Sam, but he is perhaps too young for her, and it would be unnecessary to send Miss Eliza to London to meet him.”
“Sam is a good boy, but I think we can agree that Elizabeth would be too much for him,” Mr. Bennet said.
Sir William stood and motioned to the side of the room. Bennet nodded, and Sir William poured. “What think you of Andrew Long? He is in town currently.”
Sir William harrumphed. “If Sam is too young, Andrew is far too old. Were he fifteen years younger, he might have a hope of keeping up with her, but now?”
Bennet snorted. “Fair enough, but our prospects are rather limited.”
Fitz nudged Darcy. “Breathe, cousin,” he said in a low whisper. The words rang in Darcy’s ears.
Until Fitz said the word, Darcy had indeed forgotten to draw breath.
He had fought his feelings for Elizabeth. His allegiance to his family prevented it, and she might not wish it in any case. She had been warming to him, he believed, and his admiration for her had only grown deeper and steadier. Duty still insisted that Elizabeth would not suit. But his heart was overwhelming those long-held convictions.
He loved Elizabeth. Darcy blinked. Good God, he loved her. Could he bear to see her betrothed to another?
“We should have Goulding here. He is our most creative thinker,” Sir William mused.
“He would put Eliot forward,” Mr. Bennet responded. He glanced at Darcy and Fitz. “Goulding’s nephew,” he explained.
Listening to these men sorting through Elizabeth’s prospects was akin to sitting atop an anthill.
Sir William considered it. “Eliot would be a decent match if it were not for . . .” He made a wide circle with one finger near his ear. “It still makes him a little . . . you know. Sometimes.”
Darcy’s eyes widened. They would wed her to an idiot? Clever, witty Elizabeth?
Miss Bennet interrupted the discussion. “I believe Lizzy should be involved in this conversation, Papa,” she said firmly. “She may not wish to be married at all.”
Though he said not a word, Darcy could not have agreed more heartily. Miss Bennet was everything good and trustworthy.
“I am afraid that time is past, Jane,” Mr. Bennet said with regret. “While we have covered the truth, there will always be the potential for gossip. Even with all these gentlemen have done to protect her, Lizzy has been in Mr. Darcy’s home without a chaperone for more than a week.” He raised an eyebrow at Darcy. “I have not asked who cared for Lizzy while she was injured and ill as I suspect I do not wish to know, but Jane, surely you can see that she must marry.”
“I am not the one you must convince, Papa,” was Miss Bennet’s serious reply. “Lizzy’s reputation has not been tarnished thanks to your quick thinking. We have heard no gossip. Must she wed?”
Mr. Bennet shook his head. “Lizzy is a sensible girl. She will understand.”
Miss Bennet was shaking her head, and Darcy quite agreed. It was not right. Mr. Bennet was a tyrant. To tie Elizabeth to any man who was not . . . was not . . . Darcy’s shoulders slumped.
Who was not him. Mr. Bennet should not betroth Elizabeth to anyone but him.
“I suppose we could ask Gardiner,” Mr. Bennet continued. “His circle is mostly tradesman, but he has connections, men with significant fortunes who would be pleased with a gently bred wife, particularly an intelligent one. Frankly, Lizzy might thrive in such a marriage.”
“Or Darcy and I could enlist my mother,” Fitz added, all affability. Darcy glared at his cousin, but Fitz continued to speak. “The countess knows nearly every family in the ton and has an exact knowledge of marriageable men and their situations. I am sure my mother would like her. Miss Elizabeth is a rather spirited, intelligent woman.” He caught Darcy’s eye and spoke directly to him. “Pretty, too, which a young woman ought to be if she possibly can.”
Mr. Bennet made a sort of growling sound in his throat, and Miss Bennet released a startled laugh.
“Pardon me,” she said, raising one hand to her mouth. “That is just like something Lizzy said once about . . .” she faltered. “About a man we know.”
Darcy knew just the man she meant, and he felt a little twinge of pity for Miss Bennet, though he dared not display it. He faced his cousin. “Fitz,” he said, “may I speak with you in private?”
Fitz appeared as though he would demur, but Darcy took his cousin by the arm and half-pulled, half-shoved him to the door.
Out in the hall, Darcy looked up and saw four or five small children of varying ages sitting on the floor above watching from the landing, their legs dangling through the railing. Behind him, Sir William gave directions to his butler. Darcy and Fitz were led to a small, empty parlor. They heard Sir William calling out to the children to return to the schoolroom and a chorus of disappointed replies. The sound was cut off as the butler shut the door.
“What the blazes are you doing?” Darcy asked his cousin curtly.